A Franderella Story
by LxZrulez
Summary: A heart-warming fairytale in which Cinderella is a boy who dislikes cross-dressing, the evil step-sisters are very nice, kind people, the fairy-godmother is a pineapple fairy scheming with a group of tooth decay fungi, and Prince Charming is a sadistic psychopath with a penchant for stabbing anything that moves. Yup, it's hate at first sight, and an awkwardly ever after...


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Sawada Tsunayoshi, Timoteo, Reborn, Xanxus, Belphegor, Fran, Kawahira, Wonomichi, Fran's Grandma, Viper/Mammon, Chrome Dokuro, Basilicum, the Cervello, Rokudo Mukuro, Superbi Squalo, Lussuria, Kikyo, Bluebell, Byakuran, Sasagawa Kyoko, Gokudera Hayato, Miura Haru, Dr. Shamal, Bianchi, Fon, or any of the other characters and character groups I have mentioned in this story. All these characters and character groups, as well as Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, are all Amano Akira-sensei's.

**oOoOoOo**

Once upon a time, there was an alliance of powerful kingdoms. Tomaso, Bovino, Giglo Nero, Millefore, Cavallone… and the greatest kingdom of them all, Vongola.

Vongola was a realm known for the prowess of its warriors that guarded it, and for its prosperity and peace that resulted from the efforts of its oh-so _outstanding _citizens. Its most recent ruler, Sawada Tsunayoshi, took over the rule on behalf of his aging grandfather Timoteo, Vongola Nono. He established his entourage of Flame Guardians, and set forth actions in the palace in a way his grandfather and his tutor, Reborn, deemed acceptable. One such action was to name Xanxus, adopted son of Timoteo, as the leader of Vongola's elite guard, the Varia.

(Elite guard was a rather creative euphemism for assassination squad.)

Several days ago, an old childhood friend of Xanxus', a prince of a far away kingdom who had slaughtered his whole family at the tender age of eight, showed up at the palace and agreed to join the Varia on the date of his nineteenth birthday. And to celebrate the addition of another fine executioner to the ranks of the Varia, the Vongola royal family decided to throw a huge, expensive ball and invite everyone in the land to it.

This is where I came in.

My name is Fran. And with a name like that, you would expect me to be a girl, right?

Wrong. Sadly, certain aspects of my physique make it quite evident I'm of the male gender.

…I wonder what drugs my parents were on when they named me. They must have been good. Unfortunately, I never got to ask them, since my mother died at childbirth and my loving father disappeared down a dark alley soon after my second birthday. I never saw him again. A weird guy named Kawahira took me in when he found me crawling around his trashcan, and was a pretty decent parent for someone who enjoyed trolling door-to-door salesmen and eating nothing but ramen.

Then, when I was eight, he had to move to the palace for some reason I don't really remember, and the kicker was, he wasn't allowed to bring me along. But he left me in the care of his subordinate Wonomichi, a weirdo with terrible fashion sense and a strange, squeaky voice. But thankfully the idiot was able to keep me alive for two more years, and I grew from a sarcastic and evil boy to an _older_ sarcastic and evil boy.

Then, when I was ten, Wonomichi was called away to rejoin Kawahira, who left me a large sum of money and told me that since I was smart enough, he would leave me to my own devices.

(He also told me to write to him if I was dying, bankrupt, or deprived of my many limbs, which wasn't extremely helpful, but there you have it.)

Thirty-three days after that, a group of punks tried to beat me up. They waved clubs and knives and all those lovely things people use to maim each other. They threatened to pull my hair out, carve my face open with a pocket knife, and hang my upside down from the bell tower.

I was unimpressed.

I stared them down and told them they could use the time they were wasting on me to take a nice, refreshing bath instead. It would really improve the smell of stinky socks and sweat they had around them.

They didn't like that very much. But then again, I didn't like their threatening to put me through biological function termination, so I told them so.

They threw this huge temper tantrum and tried to kill me. I was no longer unimpressed; I was amused.

Luckily for me, this harmless looking old lady wobbled over and, using her walking stick, whacked the leader over the head and proceeded to lecture the rest on manners. After she was done chewing them out, she told me to come with her. And after watching her verbally and physically assault a group of burly bullies, I figured that it'd be best if I did as she told me.

On the way to who-knew-where, the old lady asked me about my family, and why I was so dirty. Normally one does not tell random muggers (even if they looked like harmless old ladies) about one's personal life, but unfortunately I lacked the common sense and concern that most people have. I told her I was an orphan. She was quiet for a few minutes. Then she told me that since I was such a nice boy, she would adopt me.

I asked her how she came to the conclusion that I was 'nice'.

Apparently it was because I wasn't afraid of being ripped limb from limb by people who were more than quadruple my size. I didn't think that nice people were those who made blunt comments and stared blankly into the face of death; but then again, this was a place where people celebrated the addition of psychopaths who kill their own families.

Another thing: never follow harmless old ladies to their houses. They are probably liaaaaars. And you will die. And dying is bad.

Most of the time.

Once we reached her home, which was this huge mansion, she sat me down in one of the stately bathrooms and began scrubbing my face. The second she pulled away the towel she sort squealed and rushed off. A few moments later, she returned, her wrinkled face very flushed.

"Young man, what did you say your name was?"

I reminded her that my name was Fran, and she immediately rushed at me and hugged me with the force of an avalanche, happily crying "It IS you!" over and over.

She then proceeded to tell me I was her long-lost grandson, the child of her young son who had ran away with a peasant's daughter when he was five-and-twenty. He had come home two years later, after he lost both his wife and his child. He was repentant, and remarried soon after. This time his bride was a young widow, who already had two children.

Then my father and his new wife died, my proclaimed grandmother told me as she patted me fondly on the head. She smiled happily and told me I looked quite like the baby I had been.

I was surprised that she had seen me when I was an infant, and she told me that she had, and that the reason I didn't remember her was because I had been shot in the head with a block of cheese.

And from then on, I lived with my grandmother and my two step-sisters. And believe it or not, I was very happy. My step-sisters accepted me with open arms and treated me like I was really their family, not some random kid that was apparently related to their stepfather. My grandmother pampered us a lot, my step-siblings and I argued and made up and argued some more, and days turned to months, and months turned to years. I probably would've lived the rest of my life content, but nooooo, fate decided to screw with me some more and brought a deranged hairball into my life that changed my world forever. And let me tell you, it sucked.

**oOoOoOo**

It was December twenty-first, and I was now sixteen years old. That particular morning I was lying in my bed, curled beneath an avalanche of white, silken sheets, content to ignore the world and the ridiculously cheery chirping of birds outside my window.

"Wake up, Fran," a voice ordered quietly, and the curtains that shielded me from the deadly light of the sun were suddenly jerked back, dousing me in a deluge of light-induced agony. "Every minute wasted is a penny wasted."

I groaned and turned over in bed, shooting the most deadly glare I could muster in my bleary, half-awakened state. Needless to say, I probably didn't look very frightening, because Viper just scoffed and threw a pillow at me. I whined, and she stalked out of the room, leaving me to blink sleepily and feel around my room for clothes. After I tugged on some clothes that were relatively comfortable, I made my way down the stairs and into the dining room, where my step-siblings and grandmother were waiting.

Viper, who was sitting with one thin leg crossed over the other, was dressed in her usual attire, a dark hooded cloak that threw most of her face, save the two purple marks on her cheeks, into shadow, black riding boots, and dark tights under an indigo tunic. Her clothes, coupled with her shoulder-length, plum-colored hair and slender, androgynous body, caused her to be constantly mistaken for a very beautiful boy, while I was constantly mistaken for a tomboy-ish girl.

My other step-sister, who was younger than Viper but older than me, was Chrome. She was the only one out of the three of us that never got her gender confused.

Lucky.

But I have to admit, it was hard to think she might be a guy. Chrome was one of those angelic, shy girls who were sweet to everyone and everything around them. With her soft purple hair, large amethyst eye (she lost her other one in an accident), and gentle smile, she easily looked the part as well.

She could probably have been a satanic mastermind bent on world domination and no one would've noticed. Everyone listened to her anyway.

(Which was exactly I was scared of her. She was a puppet master with puppy eyes.)

"Good morning, Fran," Chrome greeted me demurely as she paused in her breakfast. I grunted in reply.

I hate mornings.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Chrome immediately rushed to open it. In came a young page with brown hair hanging over blue eyes, sweeping his feather cap in a feathery arc.

"Thou art all the inhabitants of this house?" he asked. Viper muttered something quite uncomplimentary and joined Chrome at the doorway.

"Five hundred dollars for an answer," she told the boy quietly. "What in the name of hell do you want?"

Way to go, Viper. It's not even nine in the morning and you've already managed to insult someone.

I'm so proud!

Chrome shot her a disappointed look and quickly told the boy, who looked taken aback, "There are two others."

"Thou art invited to the royal ball that is to be held on the eve of the twenty-second of December," the page told them, losing his disgruntled air when Chrome smiled apologetically at him. "The Vongola Royal Famiglia wishes that all their subjects attend."

He handed Chrome four invitations, and, with another sweep of his hat, cantered off to tell other people about the royal waste of time that the Famiglia would be hosting.

"Well," Chrome said thoughtfully as she studied the pieces of paper in her hands. "I would like to go. What do you think, Viper, Fran?"

Viper shrugged indifferently. "I don't care."

Which basically translated to "Fine."

I gave Chrome a blank look, leaning lazily against the wall. "No. I have work to pretend to do, space to waste, and air to breath. I'm simply much too busy for this."

Chrome looked a bit saddened, and for just a few seconds I felt slightly guilty. But then she smiled and told me that she hoped that I enjoyed myself.

I told her I hoped so too.

The rest of the day was dedicated to my step-sisters finding the perfect dresses. We went to La Cervello Boutique, a shop well-known for its beautiful evening gowns and tailored suits. The minute we stepped in my siblings and I were accosted by mask-wearing pink-haired women, and were accordingly fussed over.

All was relatively good until one of the women asked me what dress type I wanted.

I quite politely told her to go boil her head in a cauldron of smoldering fondue. I also made it quite clear that I was not the one who sought to waste money on than scraps of colorful fabrics held together with flimsy ribbons, and that the two prospective money wasters they were looking for were my step-siblings. For some unfathomable reason, the two women gave me hard looks that made it obvious they wanted to defenestrate me.

But they didn't, and I was subjected to eternal damnation. I had to sit there, bored out of my mind, as my step-sisters browsed the shop for the perfect dress. Let me say, it was a grueling experience, sitting on my behind for two-and-a-half hours with nothing to look at but rows and rows of fabric rainbows. But the end result was sort of good, so I guess I shouldn't have complained too much.

Chrome found a pretty one, a light rosé-colored evening dress that fell to her feet, the hems sewn with large blooming florets. Her bodice was laced in the front with pastel ribbons, and the straps were of the same material. Small amber jewels glittered on her skirts, winking under the light. Two white, elbow-length gloves accompanied the dress, as did a small silver necklace. Chrome decided she would need no other accessories, and concluded her hunt.

Viper's gown was one themed with indigo, violet, and a little black. The sleeves were made of a strange netted indigo material, as were the flounces that went down the front of her skirt and the choker that was tied with a black ribbon and small silver ornament. The rest of her dress was a dark purple, save the black ribbons that wound around her skirt and criss-crossed over the flounces. She wore a hat set over purple roses; netted fabric fell over her face and covered what her hood would have, leaving me and Chrome only the sight of her mouth and purple marked cheeks.

Just as my step sisters were paying, a little monkey suddenly scurried through the door, carrying a letter in its little mouth. It scuttled straight towards Viper and, after handing the letter to her and receiving a little pat in return, it scuttled out the door just as quickly as it had came.

Viper opened the letter and smiled as she read the contents. That was enough to pique my interest—Viper, smiling? Blasphemy—so I leaned over her shoulder to read. All the words were written in some foreign language.

Viper folded the paper and slipped it back into her pocket, and my interest disappeared alongside the parchment until I heard the price the Cervello lady named for the dresses.

Chrome's was expensive, sure. Nothing surprising there. But _Viper's _dress was also expensive!

And even more unbelievably, she _actually bought it. _

Without complaining. Or cheating. Or killing anyone.

_My stepsister Viper. _

The one who was obsessed with money. The one that would gladly break into banks and rob everyone of all their money without the slightest trace remorse. The one that would sooner stab someone through the middle than part with three pennies. The one whose life was entirely dedicated to money.

_That _Viper.

I was pretty sure that doomsday was just outside the door and knocking quite impatiently, but nothing happened. No thunder split the scene, no floods washed away the earth, no earthquakes shook the world to pieces. Nothing remarkable happened, unless you counted the fact that Viper willing parted with money.

(…So, apocalypse, anytime now would be positively lovely.)

And we left, with me and Chrome both gaping at Viper and Viper ignoring us.

My family has issues.

**oOoOoOo**

By the time the sun had gotten tired of hanging in the sky and decided to take a break, the time for the ball had come. Warm day became a cooler, though still warm night, and stars filled the skies while carriage after carriage filled the streets. Viper and Chrome were dressed and made up and ready to depart for the ball, and I was ready for a night of doing nothing but talking to my best friends.

(Don't look at me like that: talking to inanimate objects is a perfectly respectable hobby.)

Our house's carriage had been set with two beautiful black horses. Viper looked very dark and gloomy; Chrome looked very pink and pretty. My grandmother had decided she was simply much too old for this young madness and decided to accompany several other ancient ladies to the town gardens, where they would play chess and yell at annoying little tykes that had nothing better to do than annoy every living thing that came by them.

As Chrome followed Viper out the door, she turned back once and quietly asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come, Fran?"

Viper's eyeless gaze bore into my head, for once interested with what I was going to say.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I told her, patting her arm with semi-fondness. She sighed, but turned and climbed into the carriage. I waved as she and Viper looked back out once more, and they waved back. Within moments they had disappeared down the road, leaving me with dust in my face and a night of prospective lazing around.

And needless to say, I was looking forward to it.

**oOoOoOo**

My night started out pretty well. I slept for a bit, stared at the stars, took the time to polish the welcoming hall's marble floors (so I like cleaning. What), and eventually wound up outside and began talking to the plants and nighttime animals.

The owl wasn't a very good conversationalist—halfway through my rant about the horrors of angel food cake she decided to fly off. The little grey pebble that was next to my foot was a good listener, but I kept losing sight of it, so I eventually gave up on tracking it down every time I looked down. The frog kept croaking, the petals on the rose bush were too pink, the water in the fountain was even louder than I was, and the air was everywhere, so I gave up on them as well. Eventually I drifted to my apple tree, and promptly began conversing about the dangers of being to near the female gender.

This was a pretty normal routine for me. I would talk to things that never bothered talking back, and laze around without a care to a world. This was my hobby. This was completely normal.

Of course I wouldn't have expected that anything traumatizing would have occurred, but then again, who does? A surprise wouldn't be a surprise if everyone knew it was coming.

It was ten o'clockwhen the pineapple fairy, the orchestrator of my life's trauma, showed up. I was sitting in the garden, on top of a boulder, talking to the apple tree about how pudding was simply the most amazing thing on earth, when there was a sudden shower of lotus flowers. Delicate petals fluttered out of nowhere, and fragrant blossoms sailed through the still night air. Out of the swirl of pink stepped a young man with dark blue hair and elegant eyes, one the color of sapphire and the other the color of ruby. He had a haughty look about him, and was dressed like a stylish aristocrat. A silver trident hung lazily from his left hand.

His hair also looked like a pineapple, and I wasted no time in informing him.

"What the hell are you doing in my garden, pineapple fairy?"

He just chuckled and swept gloved hands grandly in my direction. "Ciao, Fran. My name is Rokudo Mukuro, royal Illusionist, and I'll be taking you to the ball tonight."

From what I knew, illusionists were people who used spells and conjured mirages that generally caused a whole lot of chaos. (Viper was one, coincidentally.) They were deceitful, dangerous, and just plain troublesome. Even the Royal Prince didn't trust them.

I blinked. "Pineapple fairy, you just got here, but it smells like pine, it really smells! Please get your behind off our property before I sic a crazy grandma on you."

He chuckled again, although this time he sounded a tad bit more annoyed. "What a strange specimen. You are nothing like my cute Chrome."

"Don't talk about my stepsister like that, you creeper of a porcupine fruit."

Mukuro smirked and twirled his trident in flashing silver circles. "Little one, control your mouth, or I will silence you myself." He nodded towards his weapon that was spinning around like a baton.

Hmmm…Dilemmas, dilemmas. Insult the egotistic pineapple fairy and get poked with the pointy sticks, or keep my mouth shut and be left without any noticeable gaping holes?

"Your brain must be addled if you think I'll actually listen, Master Tropical. Were you dropped on your head a lot as a child, or were you born this way?"

"High heels," Mukuro seemed to say to himself as he smirked condescendingly in my direction. "A dress and high heels, little one. Would you like to wear more?"

I was quite tempted to ask what more he could do to me—a feather boa? Heart-shaped sunglasses? Make up?—but I chose to voice a far more pressing question. "And how are you supposed to get said things? By conjuring them out of thin air?"

He smirked devilishly. "Something like it, little one."

A pause.

"So you _are _a pineapple fairy."

I was pretty sure that if Mukuro wasn't such a condescending elitist he would have face-palmed. But he wasn't, and I was denied to satisfaction of seeing something whack itself against his pretty face.

Darn.

He chuckled again. "Enjoy, Fran."

"I doubt I will."

**oOoOoOo**

This was probably the first time in my very short life that I wished I was wrong, because I definitely did not enjoy this.

For one, I was in a dress. It was a very pretty dress, but a dress nonetheless.

For another, I was in high heels. The slippers were very pretty, glassy looking shoes with little emerald frogs crouching on them, but…I was a boy. And boys don't wear high-heels. Nor do they wear dresses.

Mukuro realized his mistake and chose to fix it. By turning me into a girl.

Or by making me look like one, at least.

He lengthened my hair and made my body look even more delicate. The result was a very unhappy, very put-out Fran.

I stared at myself, hard, in the mirror that he conjured from the bark of my apple tree. An annoyed young girl gazed back at me, her teal hair falling past her shoulder. She was clad in a white, flowing dress, with flowers bunching a stream of snowy silk at her waist and streaks of lace running lightly down her sleeveless bodice. Underneath the pool of ivory satin that fell at the floor peeked two glass slippers with crouching emerald frogs adorning them.

The worst part wasn't that I looked even more like the female gender than I did the male. The worst part was that I had no idea how to get out of this.

Mukuro seemed to sense my consternation and idly told me, "You'll be like this until twelve o'clock, midnight. And if you don't go to the ball, I'll make this permanent. If you leave the ball, I also make it permanent."

My heart almost stopped.

Mukuro gave me an evil, smug look. "Do you have any problems, Fran?"

The look in his eyes told me that if I said I had none, he'd give me some.

"Well, for one," I said as I stared hard into the mirror, dropping my hands to my waist. "This dress makes me look fat."

I could have sworn that Mukuro would've died laughing. But he didn't.

It really did seem like his purpose in life was to spite me.

"VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOI! MUKUROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Oh, goody. Here comes another one.

**oOoOoOo**

"ROKUDO MUKUROOOOOOOOOOOOO! VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOI! WHAT THE HELL'S TAKING YOU SO DAMN LONG?!"

Mukuro looked up, mildly interested, as a flash of silver shot into the garden. A tall man with long silver hair skidded to a stop, caught sight of the master of delusional thinking, and immediately started waving a long sword in our general direction.

"THE PRINCELY BRAT'S GETTING TO BE A HUGE PAIN IN THE ASS! HURRY UP AND GET THAT IDIOT TO THE BALL, PRONTO!"

He then noticed that I was giving him a look that suggested doubt in his mental facilities. "What are you looking at, trash?!"

"You're a tooth decay fungi," I told him while giving him a look that clearly stated my disapproval of his existence in general. "And he's a pineapple fairy. You both should hurry up and rid the world of your pathetic existence."

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

Mukuro just shook his head and sighed resignedly. "I fail to see why this little one would inspire so much interest, but let us go now."

I began to dance my grandmother's fairy banishment dance, which involved waving my arms above my head and risking my nonexistent dignity in general.

"Onbu rakokko donbura kokko~ Go away fairies, go awaaaaaay."

Their faces were priceless.

"Silence, little one, or I'll extend the time to three o'clock."

Just before we climbed into the carriage that Mukuro conjured from thin air, he gave me a strangely pensive look. He murmured something, formed a small silver diadem from water, and placed it onto my head, slipping a small white rose in between strands of my hair.

"Kufufufu," he chuckled, looking pleased. "This ought to be very interesting."

**oOoOoOo**

The castle was alit, and people streamed in and out the doors out into the royal gardens or into the castle's halls, so even from the outside the ball looked alive. The silver-haired loudmouth and Mukuro led me into the ballroom, were I was greeted with the sight of swirling colors and delighted voices.

"Where the hell's that brat?" the silver-haired loudmouth grumbled, peering belligerently through the throngs of people whirling across the gleaming floors.

Mukuro just shrugged, and ghosted off into the mass of wriggling bodies, leaving me alone with a very homicidal-looking man who looked like he would like nothing better than to run me through with his sword.

A wall of white feathers suddenly slammed into me, and a high-pitched voice squealed, "Maaaaaaaaah, this one's soooooo cuuuuuuute~!"

The owner of the shrill voice turned out to be a tall, burly man with a multi-colored Mohawk and dark sunglasses. He wore white clothing, decorated with copious amounts of feathers and glittering pink gems.

"Voooi, Lussuria, where's the brat?!" the silver-haired loudmouth hollered. Lussuria giggled.

"Oh, Squ-chan, I'll go get him~ ! There he is! Oooooh, Bel-chaaaaaan~! Come meet our new friend~!"

A disembodied voice bluntly answered, "No. I don't want to meet anymore peasants."

Well, I'm sorry for being a peasant.

"But Bel-chaaaaaan~!"

"VOOOOOOOOI!"

I took the opportunity to slip away, quite certain that I did not want to stay and see what happened. I wandered to a nearby refreshment table, looking uninterestedly at the many delicacies that lined the tabletop and searching for the godsend of pudding. I was mostly worried that someone might recognize me, that one of my friends would notice that I was dressed in drag and spread the humiliating tale to everyone.

_Well, the apple tree can't move, and neither can the boulder…or the fountain… or the wall…and the frog can't talk anyway…So I should be safe…_

I breathed a sigh of relief, and turned around to continue my hunt for pudding.

I found it.

I spooned some pudding into a small bowl and took it with me as I walked aimlessly through the ball, watching with vague interest the many people who were whirling around and socializing. I saw a man with beautiful, rippling sea-green hair and a young girl with long blue locks talking quietly. Near them stood a young man with white-lavender spiky hair who was munching on mounds and mounds of fluffy white substances. I saw Prince Tsuna dancing with an attractive caramel-haired young girl in a pretty pink gown. A boy with spiky gray hair danced while arguing with a girl with short black hair and a green dress. A sleazy looking drunk hit on a gorgeous woman, who immediately dropped him to the floor with one of the most amazing high kicks I'd ever seen. I eventually saw Viper, talking animatedly with an Asian man in a red oriental robe. She looked very happy, and somewhere in my black hole of a heart I felt pleased for her. I also saw Chrome, waltzing with Mukuro—he smirked when he saw me, but Chrome didn't seem to see me, which was good.

Eventually I got bored and shot a quick look at the clock—only forty-three minutes left to go. I sighed and plopped myself down near a decorative plant. My feet hurt from walking around in high heels, my head hurt, and I was tired in general.

It probably wasn't a good idea to move into a spot were very few people could see me, because a few minutes after I sat down I was greeted with a knife pressed to my throat.

The one who was holding the knife moved a little, so that he was in my line of vision. It was a young man with wild golden hair that covered his eyes. He was dressed richly, as all the other ball-goers were, but there was one difference. He was wearing a small silver crown amidst the mass of gold that covered his hair, marking him as royalty. (And he certainly was not one of the members of the Vongola Famiglia. Which meant he was the psychotic prince, the one who had killed his family when he was eight….)

Oh, joy.

He frowned, seeming not to notice that I was not very happy to be within reaching distance of a murderer. "Ushishishi. Only the prince is allowed to wear a crown." He poked his little murder weapon at my tiara.

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Don't you mean fallen prince?"

The frown suddenly slipped from his lips, which became slightly parted, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. He moved the knife, cocked his head to one side, and stared.

And stared.

And then started laughing. "Ushishishi~! Ushishishi!"

I was surprised.

"Ushishi. You're a snarky brat, aren't you Froggy?"

The royal hairball smirked and spun his delicate silver knife around in his hand. "Ushishishi. The prince is bored. Entertain me."

"You know," I said in a sickly-fake conversational voice as he studied his knife thoughtfully. "I like knives. I like them even better when they're not embedded in my body, if you catch my drift."

The prince tilted his head to one side, the grin slipping off to be replaced once more with a small frown. "Are you trying to tell me you don't want to get stabbed?"

…Yes…?

He was quite content to ignore my wish, and stabbed me mercilessly in the arm.

It hurt.

He giggled again when he saw that I had no outward reaction, and stabbed me again. And again. And again. Each time the giggles increased, as did the speed and force of his stabs.

He was having way too much fun with this.

And I was having way too little.

**oOoOoOo**

Somehow Lussuria found us and declared that we were a beautiful couple and that we ought to dance. I tried to ignore him, and the prince tried to stab him, but in the end, somehow, Lussuria got his way.

As the prince placed his hand on my hip and held my other hand and turned us in a graceful circle, I noted the numerous problems with this fairytale picture:

One: The Princess (me) was a boy. And the not-Princess did not want to be here.

Two: The Prince was psychotic.

Three: The Prince was trying to kill the not-Princess.

Four: The Prince and not-Princess were being forced to dance by a Mohawk-man with gender-issues.

Five: There was no pudding.

Six: Did I mention that I was the princess?

You can't imagine how I happy I was when the song ended. I immediately squirmed away from the prince, who in turn glared at Lussuria, who sighed and whispered rapturously, "You make such a beautiful couple…It was almost like a wedding…"

This was the first time in my life that I considered physically harming a fellow human being. Luckily, the deranged hairball did the job for me. But when the unstable pain in the backside turned his psychotic glare and lovely pointed knives on me, I decided that maybe I'd have preferred having Lussuria around.

The Prince's grin grew incredibly wide, thirty-six molars gleaming under the brilliant light of the many chanderliers.

And that, I decided, was not good. Not good at all.

**oOoOoOo**

Some several thousand stabs and hundreds of prince-directed insults later, I found an opportunity to get away. Prince Tsunayoshi had decided to have his speech—and luckily for me, it involved calling the psychotic hairball into the center of attention and away from me.

I had a minute until midnight.

"Prince Belphegor!"

The hairball—Bel—glared darkly, slowly drawing his knife away. "Shi. Shi. Shi. Tuna fish has a death wish."

"Prince Bel! Please!"

Forty-two seconds.

Bel frowned, and, and gritted his teeth. "Froggy will stay here," he told me, and strode off in the direction of Prince Tsunayoshi, who was looking both worried and a bit annoyed.

Thirty.

I waited for a few moments. Then I ran towards the entrance, not caring whether the demonic hairball saw, bunching my skirts at my waist.

Nineteen.

Eighteen.

Seventeen.

Sixteen.

I blew past Chrome, who looked up in surprise, but I think I was going too fast for her to recognize me.

Fifteen.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

Eleven.

I tripped over my dress, and fell sprawling across the floor.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

A slipper fell off my right foot as I charged out into the night air, but I didn't care—by midnight it would be gone, so no matter.

Seven.

Six.

I was nearly past the carriages, so close, so close, _so close_.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

My dress melted away, turning back into my normal clothes, and I looked back to see the castle glowing against the star-studded sky. I breathed a sigh of relief and slowed my run to a jog, then to a leisurely walk. I had all the time in the world.

Then I realized that my feet felt very uneven. I looked down, and noticed that my left foot was still in a glass slipper—and that my right foot was bare.

I didn't have much time to worry too much, and stumbled my way home. The moment I was back I threw myself onto my bed, buried my face into my pillow, and flung my slipper into the farthest corner of my room. Then, I slept.

**oOoOoOo**

When Chrome and Viper came back, I was awake again, and listened half-heartedly to Chrome's chattering. She told me that there was a very pretty girl who had danced with Prince Belphegor, and that she admired her dress very much.

I asked her what color it was.

She told me it was white.

That was when I decided that going back to bed would be a good idea, and promptly did just that.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of our front door slamming and a loud yell. In my half-awake state, I was partially curious, partially hungry, and, I think, partially delusional. I got up, opened my door, and began waddling down the stairs.

I heard someone yell again.

I yawned and stumbled a little further down the stairs. Chrome and Viper were talking to two people, it seemed. From what I could see through my slitted eyes were that the two aforementioned had silver and gold hair.

Wait, gold?

I blinked one eye a little more open, and sure enough, the psychotic prince was there. And was that my glass slipper in his hand?

Oh shitake mushrooms.

As if on cue, Bel raised his head and gazed straight at me. When he did nothing but gaze quietly for a few moments, I began to hope that maybe, maybe he wouldn't notice me. I did have long hair yesterday, and I did have a chest...Now that I had neither of those, maybe he would leave me alone—

"Froggy."

Damnit.

I mumbled something about being sleepy and dashed as quickly as I could up the stairs. There was a sudden woosh, and I tripped, my feet entangled in what seemed to be thin threads of silver. I looked closer and realized they were wires, which had been attached to a few bizarre looking knives, which had been thrown by—

"Ushishishi. This is the one. The Prince has found his froggy!"

I was suddenly hoisted off my behind and thrown over Bel's shoulder. The psychotic prince brought me back down the stairs and threw me onto the floor, pointing.

"Ushishi. We can go now."

Squalo turned to Viper, who was watching all this with impassive eyes. "So you're rejoining us then, Mammon?"

Viper just shrugged, pulling her cloak tightly around her shoulders. "If you give me a pay raise."

"Tch. Fine."

"Wait, you were in the Varia?" I demanded from my comfortable spot on the floor. Everyone ignored me.

Chrome was watching us with a wide eye and small frown, and she sniffled sadly. "So both Viper-nee and Fran will be leaving me? I wish I could go with you!"

"Great," I said, trying to pry Bel's hands off of my collar. "You can go in my place, Chrome."

"Shishi, no. I want this one."

…Yay…?

"Stupid Froggy, thinking he can get away from me~!"

Bel raised a few knives and smirked, staring straight at me.

"You…wouldn't happen to be thinking of putting those anywhere near me, right?" I asked.

_Stab. _

"Ittai. Guess not."

And thus began my time with Vongola's Royal Assassination Squad, the Varia.

**oOoOoOo**

If it makes you feel any better, my story does end with a fantastical, beautiful white wedding.

…It wasn't _mine, _idiot. It was a double wedding for Chrome and the pineapple fairy, and Viper and the Oriental Man (Bel insisted on calling him Noodle-chan for some unfathomable reason).

As for me, I stayed with the Varia as Bel-senpai's partner and unofficial punching bag. Sadly, if I was completely truthful…I didn't mind too much. In fact, I kind of liked it.

God, I _must _be a masochist.

**oOo Fine oOo **

**A/N: **This has got to be my longest oneshot ever. Six thousand words plus. _Whut. _

I'm so proud! I actually finished something this loooooong~! Yaaaaaay!

So yeah, I took Cinderella and screwed it up a bit. Don't ask how I got this idea. I was thinking of Fran and Bel, then got to the Frog Prince, then came to Cinderella, then Fran in a dress, and yeah… -sweatdrop-

…Yeah, I'm not sane. But I had a lot of fun with this, and I hoped you guys enjoyed reading!

Special thanks to Komugiiro Nezumi for editing this for me! I would never have finished this without you! (Huuuug)

P.S.: Happy Valentine's Day, everyoooooooooone~!


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